


Once You've Cheated Death...

by diannelamerc



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen, Humor, Taxes, second season
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-17
Updated: 2006-04-17
Packaged: 2017-10-09 00:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/81267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diannelamerc/pseuds/diannelamerc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Really, given the number of times we've saved two galaxies, you'd think we'd be exempt from this kind of idiocy."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once You've Cheated Death...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [celli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/gifts).



> Disclaimer: I don't own these guys, I'm just here to make their lives hell...
> 
> Notes: Written for celli's Fourth Annual Mildly Unofficial Tax Season Challenge. Thanks to lizbetann for the quick-n-dirty beta!

"Elizabeth? What kind of mindless, pointless drones are pretending to run your government this week?"

Sparing barely a glance at the accrual of paperwork and various minor crises building up on her desk, Weir sighed. "What is it now, Rodney?"

"I've got a letter here from your Internal Revenue Service... or rather a letter addressed to one 'Mr. McKay,' which, considering how much your government is actually paying for access to those advanced degrees of mine, is really a pretty sad commentary on the state of—"

"So they got your name wrong," she broke in calmly and without hesitation. "I assume they had something else to say to you?"

"Well, considering it's not even technically addressed to me, I suppose I could probably ignore it," Rodney looked suddenly thoughtful.

Elizabeth had a sudden headache. "Look, Ms. Lane came over on the Daedalus' last run specifically to help everyone with their taxes. She's a skilled accountant, has worked with the SGC for years, and knows how to report non-specific sources of income and classified deductions from galaxies we're not supposed to even be in. She's been here for two months and has done a remarkable job with every other person in the city. Is there some reason you can't go to her with this?"

"She's... uh... busy."

Elizabeth looked at her watch. She'd gotten her own taxes out of the way last week, but she remembered the deadline Ms. Lane had specified in the email. Short of 'gating directly to Antarctica and skipping over a few time zones, Lane had made it clear that she needed everything completed and ready for transmission... within the next thirty minutes. "Let me guess: You just went to her for the first time."

"Well, pardon me if I've been busy coming up with ways to save all our lives—"

"I even warned her about you," Weir sighed, holding out her hand for the piece of paper her Chief Science Officer was waving about like some demented bird.

He snatched it back possessively with a frown. "—then again, if the city starts signaling the Wraith or runs out of power or blows up or just sinks into the ocean for good, then none of us would have to worr— Wait. What do you mean you 'warned her about me'?"

Elizabeth laid her hands flat on the desk, since McKay seemed intent on withholding the source of his current tirade until he was good and finished. "I made it very clear to Ms. Lane that she would have to chase you down and drag the information out of you by force, well in advance of any deadlines." She smiled with diplomatic innocence. "Since she seems to have missed meeting you in past years, I also told her not to take you personally."

Rodney sputtered, but apparently decided not argue the point.

"She did contact you, didn't she?"

"The woman's been practically stalking me, but I'm a very busy man. I don't have time for this!"

And I do? Weir let the question express itself clearly on her face. Unsurprisingly, McKay took no notice. She sighed, reminding herself that if she actually killed him, it would only mean more paperwork for her. And she'd probably regret it later. "So get her to file an extension for you; I'm sure she'd just love to stalk you for another six months."

"She already did." He frowned. "She had it all filled out and waiting for me to sign when I came by. Some of her estimates about my financial situation were woefully lacking, but—"

"I'm sure she did the best she could under the circumstances." And Elizabeth considered Rodney McKay his very own special set of circumstances. "And I'm sure you can afford a few penalties here and there. It might actually encourage you to take this more seriously." She knew it wouldn't, of course, but it was the thought that counted.

His frown grew deeper. "That's exactly what Lane said to me. Well, that and something about taxes actually funding our whole mission here and on and on, like me putting my ass on the line every day for this mission weren't enough." But he held up a hand before Weir could even move to interrupt him and shook the whole topic off. "But your government's imminent, draconian filing deadline isn't what this is about."

Elizabeth gave up on even finding an appropriate expression for that. "Then what is—" A sudden thought hit her and she suppressed a groan. "Tell me you're not being audited?" Oh God, she was never going to hear the end of it. She only prayed they had no one at the IRS with sufficient clearance to actually arrive on Atlantis looking for him in person. She'd have to make it clear that she couldn't guarantee any auditor's personal safety if it came down to that.

She should probably warn them about the Wraith too.

"No, I'm not being audited," McKay sneered... an expression that faltered slightly after a moment. "Well, not technically, I don't think...."

His guard was down and Elizabeth pounced, snatching the sheet of paper from his hand and skimming over it with the practiced ease of long familiarity with bureaucratic phrasing and word choice. "Hey!" he squeaked in protest, and really, the impression he gave for just one moment of an outraged chipmunk should have had her fighting back laughter. And it would have if she hadn't reached the line about—

"You didn't file at all last year?" She looked up at him, stunned. I mean, yes, he was usually doing critical work, but absent-minded avoidance only got you so far.

"Oh, yes, let's see: What could I have been thinking? Last April... hmmm... now what was I doing last April... I mean, there was the whole trying to re-establish contact with the planet Earth thing... a little sunbathing... tea on the Promenade Deck... and, oh yes, preparing to die while waiting helplessly for a couple of thousand Wraith to show up and destroy us all. Gee, I can't think why burying myself in arcane and ridiculously complicated taxation forms wasn't right at the top of my list!"

"That would be why we all got automatic extensions."

"So shoot me, I forgot," he snapped back.

This job was giving her an entire repertoire of new sighs. "And what exactly do you expect me to do about the situation?"

"I think the least your government could do would be to grant me a little more time, instead of sending threatening, misdirected letters to another galaxy!"

"I'm not the IRS, Rodney."

"Yes, yes, but you have," he waved his arms vaguely, "Diplomatic pull and all."

"I can't get you a retroactive extension."

Rodney finally slumped, dropping down into the chair across from her. "That's what Lane said too." Elizabeth pretended not to hear his muttering about "started laughing" and "possible hysteria". The scowl, however, remained. "Really, given the number of times we've saved two galaxies, you'd think we'd be exempt from this kind of idiocy."

Weir sighed. "Well, I suggest you write a letter to the president to that effect—"

"I already did," Rodney interrupted, dismissing her with a wave without even looking up. She could tell from the sudden focused shift in his posture and the change in his frown that she'd lost his attention completely in favor of the thought he was currently pursuing.

Popping up to his feet with a look on his face that made her stomach sink, he snatched the letter back—nearly giving her a nasty paper cut—and turned towards the door.

When it appeared he was going to leave without elaborating, she called after him, not at all sure she wanted to know.

"Radek," he called back enigmatically over his shoulder as he reached the hall. "He's been getting some interesting results from his study of time anomalies and their prevalence in the Pegasus Galaxy. I bet if I took a look at those notes...."

Elizabeth chose to scrap dignity for expedience as she rose quickly to follow him and ended up announcing far more publicly than she would have liked: "Rodney, you are not going to use any form of Ancient time travel to file your taxes!"

 

;)


End file.
